As per usual after listening to an Oh Sees release, I’m impressed by the execution but left cold and hollow by their studious style. [Oct 2020, p.59]

Rough And Rowdy Ways is undoubtedly the work of an artist with one eye on his legacy, yet it’s so full of wit, mischief and life that it positively sings. [Sep 2020, p.52]

The first two tracks showcase the oddity of the album’s moods. ... The tension grows to breaking point on the two vocal numbers, “Play The Ghost” and “Canyon Walls”, in which the barest suggestion of melodic form, coalescing out of scatters of organ drone and faded, looping instruments has to provide a support for Davachi’s Grouper-like laryngeal ectoplasm.[Oct 2020, p.52]

Consists of a reasonable ten discrete songs that feature a manageable number of guest vocalists. ... His focus on hybridity and virality keeps his work fresh and intriguing. [Oct 2020, p.52]

John Foxx’s last few records have been both a late career second wind and a shameless romp through 20th century art rock tropes – but here it’s done with a level of glee and fuck-it energy that makes even the obvious references hard to resist. [Sep 2020, p.64]

We Have Amnesia Sometimes proves that Yo La Tengo should leave their comfort zone more often. [Sep 2020, p.61]

Allegiance & Conviction is Windy & Carl’s first new album in a good long while, and it was worth the wait. [Sep 2020, p.61]

Implausibly enduring, oddly endearing and extreme in ways both unexpected and otherwise. [Sep 2020, p.57]

Though not all the tracks are fully realised, Molina was clearly pushing into new territory: that he never got there is a tragedy. [Sep 2020, p.57]

Their latest concoction is a study in maximalism that weaves ideas from a multitude of artists into a succinct stylistic language. [Sep 2020, p.56]

Where the jazz content is foregrounded however, the music is less convincing. ... Garcia’s tone bears more than a passing resemblance to Kamasi Washington’s, with a similar paucity of harmonic complexity and grandstanding solos conveying an earnest seriousness that mistakes widescreen emoting for genuine emotional content. [Sep 2020, p.52]

The astonishing thing about Deap Lips is that it sounds nothing like either constituent band, though Troy’s nasal vocal sometimes gives it away. [Sep 2020, p.52]

They continue to surprise and enchant. [Sep 2020, p.52]

A polished version of the group’s classic style propels this concept, but their invigorating eccentricity disintegrates as the album progresses. The opening title track feels familiar, with its quintessential electric riff, but this vibrancy quickly breaks down with songs like “Reduced Guilt”, whose tense harmonies drive a constant sense of unease. The record feels rote for the band, until it reaches its enigmatic conclusion. [Sep 2020, p.49]

It builds on themes and ideas introduced earlier in a clear and discernible way. ... No Era Sólida is more organic and less definable. [Sep 2020, p.49]

The album demonstrates control at every point, moving effortlessly between elegant restraint and a precise, brutal pummelling that sounds like a battering ram smashing through a door. [Sep 2020, p.48]

Thanks to Muldrow, these compositions now bump and swing to the blues of the day. [Sep 2020, p.47]

Supple openendedness of texture and the cyclic reoccurrence become one and the same as the music goes on and on – liberating words in time, rather than setting them in stone. [Sep 2020, p.46]

The freshness and spontaneity of a new collaboration shines throughout The Quickening – it ensures a fresh, unmannered feel in its tangled explorations of American landscapes and is all the more compelling for not being too perfectly polished. [Sep 2020, p.46]

A band absolutely floating free, and realising that this Throwing Muses thing is beyond all of them, beyond all of us, an almost tidal pull on the cells, forward into life. Sun Racket is an essential truth kit for a post-truth world. [Jul 2020, p.52]

A mid-1970s Tangerine Dream vibe is more apparent than on previous Noveller albums, albeit still further removed from the trappings of rock music per se, and it largely comes off as a soundtrack in waiting for a film in which a hard-up community of 19th century nomads travel slowly across an arid plain. [Aug 2020, p.64]

The selections step sufficiently far from the territory established by their own songs to generate intrigue without stretching credulity. [Jul 2020, p.64]

Heart’s Ease picks up directly from where Lodestar left off. The lightness of touch of that earlier album, the delicate and sparse instrumental backing, so unobtrusive it enables rather than dominates, and her knack of filleting songs down to their bony essence, are all elements Collins pursues further here. [Aug 2020, p.52]

There’s a luxuriant impulse at work on this second album by the London-based keyboardist and producer. The strings in particular work beautifully on the soporific funk of tunes like “1989” or “Toulouse”, suggesting a Xanaxed Roy Ayers recording for CTI in the mid-70s. Aug 2020, p.68]

It fizzles out in places – there's none of the languor of previous work nor the melancholy that collaborator Jeremy Greenspan perfected in Junior Boys – but at its best this is aural champagne, chill, crisp and delectable. [Aug 2020, p.66]

The swelling, churchy ambient post-rock of Juliana Barwick’s latest could spill over into pomposity in heavier hands, but the freshly Los Angeles based artist exudes a modest air. [Aug 2020, p.64]

He knows that being the most complete version of himself requires lifelong searching – græ never fails to feel like such a journey. [Aug 2020, p.63]

Intoxicating oddness permeates some of these slow, shimmying jams. [Aug 2020, p.59]